


Mulled Wine and Kisses

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Community: dhr_advent, Draco Malfoy - character, F/M, HP: EWE, Hermione Granger - character, Humor, POV Female Character, Post-Hogwarts, Professors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd only thought before to give him a moment of distraction, but now her thoughts were leading an entirely different direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mulled Wine and Kisses

Hermione dropped a final cinnamon stick into the glass pitcher just as a knock sounded at her outer door. She put both hands on the table and leaned into them, staring at the orange slices floating in the pitcher. The scent of the spices and red wine filled her nostrils as she took a deep breath. It never failed. As soon as she'd helped the last student and marked the last paper, as soon as she thought she could set aside her duties as professor of Muggle Studies, there was one more crisis to handle. She gave the mulled wine a longing glance, then pushed away from the table.

She plucked her blue dressing gown from the back of a chair and pulled it on to cover her short and comfortable nightdress, the black cotton faded almost to grey from long use and frequent washing. She tossed a look over her shoulder to be sure she'd pulled the bedroom door closed. It was shut and a quick visual sweep proved that, aside from the books stacked on almost every flat surface, the main room was respectable enough. She tightened the sash of her dressing gown and opened the door, already preparing to interrupt the student standing outside with a reminder of her office hours and location.

She stopped, her fingers wrapped around the curved door handle, and stared in honest surprise at the man in the corridor. Draco Malfoy stood there, his arms folded, with a small grey kitten perched on his shoulder. "I believe this is yours," he said with a lift of one brow.

"Shadow!" Hermione threw a look at the round pillow by the fireplace, its red and blue plaid covered in a thin layer of fur. She'd been so flustered when she'd come up to her rooms earlier that evening. Shadow must have slipped out while she had her arms full of books and parchment. "Yes, yes, I'm so sorry. She's mine. Thank you for returning her. I'll just take her."

She reached for the kitten, but Shadow dug all four sets of claws into the thin material of Draco's shirt. He winced and hissed. Hermione braced herself to catch Shadow and scold Draco when his hand came up, expecting he was about to knock the kitten to the floor, but instead he placed his palm over her spine. "Stop it," he muttered. To Hermione's astonishment, Shadow immediately released her grip and allowed him to pluck her off his shoulder.

Draco cradled the little kitten in his arms and gave Hermione a long-suffering look. "I'm not going to ask how she made it up to the Astronomy tower, much less how she managed to get into my classroom, but I do expect that you'll be paying to replace my armillary sphere. Ptolemaic, let me clarify. Not Copernican. She didn't manage to break that one."

Hermione jammed her fists on her hips and lifted her chin to glare at him. "And just what makes you so certain that she broke your sphere?"

"It was on a top shelf when I went into my chambers. Two minutes later, there was a loud crash, and when I stepped out to look, the sphere was on the floor, glass shattered and rings bent, and this-" He lifted his folded arms and Shadow rode on them with a disgruntled meow, settling back in the crook of his elbow when he lowered them again. "This creature was where the sphere had been, rather busily engaged in grooming her tail."

Hermione let her hands drop to her sides as she gave a sigh. Draco's explanation was perfectly logical. Not only that, but probable. Within two days after she'd brought Shadow to the castle, she'd learned that anything important or breakable needed to be kept in a closed cabinet. The kitten was an artist, and her medium was smashed bits of things.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I'll replace the sphere."

Draco looked momentarily disconcerted, as if he hadn't expected her to agree. He cleared his throat and glanced down at Shadow, stretched out across his folded arms with one paw dangling. "I appear to be a bed," he said with a grumble that seemed to be more for form than intent. "Please tell me that she has one of her own and that I can transfer her to it."

"Oh! Oh, yes." Hermione stepped clear of the door. "It's there by the fireplace. You can just put her down."

Draco tried. He did make a clear effort to put Shadow on her pillow, but the kitten clung to him, mewling and crying and clawing her way up his arm to sit on his shoulder again. Draco turned to face Hermione, who forced herself not to grin at his disgruntled expression.

"Looks like you're stuck with her until she gets bored." She gestured at the pitcher on the table, then to the sofa. "Have a seat. Mulled wine?"

Draco raised his brows and one corner of his mouth lifted. "Gladly. I love mulled wine. Two cinnamon sticks in mine, if you would." He moved to the sofa, his hand over Shadow's back to keep her from falling as he sat. Hermione poured two glasses of the warmed, spicy wine and carried them to the sofa.

Shadow sniffed Draco's glass as he lifted it to his mouth. Her whiskers pricked forward and she sneezed before scrambling up onto the back of the sofa. Hermione started to congratulate Draco on finally finding a way to free himself of the kitten, then Shadow stretched her whiskers out and sniffed the curve of Draco's ear. She made a soft, chirruping sound and set to licking his earlobe.

Hermione hid her mouth behind her hand, covering up the smile that was curling her lips. She didn't quite manage to stifle the laugh that bubbled up from deep in her chest. Draco tipped his head to the side to glare at her, but Shadow followed his movements to lick at his earlobe again. With a sigh, Draco thumped his head against the back of the sofa and allowed the kitten to lick. "You know," he said, holding one hand up in a futile gesture of surrender, "I usually insist on a second date at the minimum before I let a female do that to me."

Hermione laughed again, her hand falling to her lap. She grinned at Draco as the kitten pranced across the back of the sofa and down the arm to crawl into his lap. "Interesting tidbit there," she said, curling her feet under her and tugging the fringed afghan off the back of the sofa to drape across her bare legs. "Tell me, Professor Malfoy. Do you have a lot of women licking your ears?"

"Not nearly as many as I would like," he muttered. He rubbed the top of Shadow's head, long fingers stroking down her sleek fur, and took a slow drink of his wine. "Haven't had a lot of second dates, unfortunately."

Hermione blinked and arched her brows. She wrapped both hands around her glass, warming her fingers on it. "I didn't expect that answer. From the dramatic sighs and adoring looks most of the girls give whenever you pass by, I'd have thought your date schedule would be packed."

"The key word there is _girls_ , Granger." Draco closed his eyes. Shadow bumped his hand as his fingers stopped moving, and he started stroking her fur again. "I may have done a great many things in my life that aren't precisely on the up and up, but I haven't dated a sixteen year old girl since I was sixteen myself. I prefer my women to be women."

He stretched his legs out, putting his feet closer to the fire, and shrugged one shoulder. "Not a lot of those in the past few years. Teaching uses up a good deal more time than I ever realized when we were students here. I must spend fifteen, twenty hours a week on lesson plans alone. And let's not even get into how many of my evenings are spent on duties outside of class. Meetings, patrols, conferences. Reassuring panicked firsties who can't remember if I assigned six inches of essay or seven. I swear, I understand why Snape was such an absolute bastard all those years. I'm shocked more of the faculty weren't, honestly."

"I should still think that you'd be able to find time for a second date here and there." Hermione looked him over. Sprawled in her sofa, with a kitten in his lap and his hair loose, he looked eminently approachable. She couldn't quite bring herself to believe that he lacked for female companionship, even with his-

"Not with my history," he said in a quiet voice.

Hermione's fingers tightened around her glass and she set it aside in fear her grip might shatter it into a hundred shards. Either Draco could perform Legilimency with his eyes closed or he'd been thinking on the same lines. From the tension in his knotted brows, she thought the latter. "You were pardoned," she said slowly. "You've done so much work to prove yourself in the past twenty years. I'm sure no one still thinks of you that way, Draco."

He didn't answer. Hermione thought he might ignore what she'd said, as if she'd never spoken at all, until he put his glass on the small table beside the sofa. He sat up and plucked Shadow from his lap, setting her on the floor. His fingers moved to the left cuff of his shirt. He unfastened the button and pushed the sleeve up to his elbow, then extended his hand and displayed his forearm to her.

Hermione scraped her teeth over her bottom lip as she stared at his arm. He'd been branded, she knew, claimed by Voldemort as a servant and scapegoat, but she'd never seen the Dark Mark in his skin. It had faded over the intervening years, turned pale and silvery like an old scar, but it was still there. The skull and snake still twisted his flesh.

"Unless you can tell me that no one looks for this," he said, curling his fingers into a fist and tensing the muscles in his arm, "don't tell me how anyone thinks of me. Most people can't stop looking at my arm. I've spent entire dates without ever once seeing the woman's eyes. I don't know which bothers me most. The ones who want to see it for that imaginary hint of danger, or the ones who can't look past it at all."

Hermione sat still for a few heartbeats, then reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. Draco tensed, his entire body stiffening, but he didn't pull away from her. He let her cradle his arm in both hands, let her trail her fingers up to trace around the faded design. "It's ... it feels different from the rest of your skin," she murmured. "I thought it would feel like a tattoo. But it's a little rough."

"It's burned in."

Hermione sucked air over her teeth and had to force herself to relax the startled grip she'd taken on his arm. She stared down at the Dark Mark, her throat dry. "Bu-burned? You mean, literally _burned_? Oh god, Draco."

He shrugged, tipping his head away, but his right hand was grasping the arm of the sofa tightly enough that his knuckles had gone white. "Doesn't hurt any longer," he mumbled. "I've forgotten how it felt when it happened."

Hermione looked at him, at the jumping muscle in his jaw and the heightened color of his cheek. He was lying, that much was obvious to her. She pressed her lips together to stop the dozen questions that wanted to bubble up. If he wanted to keep that to himself, that was his right. Still, she felt as though she needed to do something. Something that would take that tension out of his face. Something else to think about, instead of old memories, old sorrows, and old pain.

She closed her eyes and let the mulled wine make her decision for her. Gently, she curled her fingers around Draco's hand and under his elbow, then lifted his arm. She bent her head and touched her lips to the inside of his wrist, barely brushing his skin. The muscles of his arm tensed again and his fingers closed over hers, but that was all. Hermione took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing.

She kissed his wrist again, more firmly, the tendon a solid ridge beneath her lips. In slow, tiny increments, she traveled up his arm, following the line of the dark blue vein that showed through his skin like a shadow. She hesitated when the texture under her mouth changed as she brushed the very bottom of the faded brand. She licked her lips and swallowed, flicking a glance through her lashes at Draco's face. His eyes were closed tight, but the muscle in his jaw had stopped twitching. His lips had parted and his grip on the arm of the sofa had eased.

Hermione smiled and lowered her head. She pressed a kiss directly over the open mouth of the skull branded into his arm. Draco made a strangled noise and Hermione snapped her head up with a gasp. "I'm sorry," she said immediately. "Draco, I'm sorry. Did that hurt?"

It took her a moment to realize that the look on his face wasn't pain. He'd arched his spine and thrown his head back against the sofa, exposing the long line of his throat. He shifted, breathing hard, and slowly opened his eyes. Hermione felt a shiver run through her body at the look he gave her. His pale eyes had turned dark and molten, like silver in a crucible. "No," he said, and that one syllable, in his low and rumbling voice, made Hermione's heart stutter. She couldn't breathe as he twisted around without taking his eyes from hers. "No, it didn't hurt. Though I suppose I should tell you now that the skin there is very sensitive."

Hermione watched, her heart speeding up, as his mouth curled in a slow, deep smile. " _Very_ sensitive," he repeated.

She trembled, the heat in his eyes transferring to her skin and soaking into her blood. She'd only thought before to give him a moment of distraction, but now her thoughts were leading an entirely different direction. Without looking away from his eyes, she pressed her lips to his arm one more time. The point of her tongue flicked out to brush the rougher skin of the brand.

Draco made that sound again, but this time she recognized it as a moan. It cut straight through her, burying itself low in her abdomen. She opened her mouth wide and fastened it over his arm to stifle her answering moan, but that wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough for her, not when she wanted to hear that sound from him over and over again.

She dropped his arm and threw the afghan off her legs, scrambling to straddle him. She tugged the collar of his shirt open and pushed her hands beneath it to caress his neck. Her fingers toyed at the ends of his hair and brushed the curves of his ears. "Draco," she said, surprised at the hoarse, throaty sound of her own voice. She licked her lips and tried again. "Draco."

Draco settled his hands on her knees and slowly slid them up her thighs, under the sides of her dressing gown, to wrap over her hips. He pulled her forward, dragging her closer until her breasts were brushing his chest and she could feel his erection pressing against her. She dropped her head back and moaned, grinding her hips as his grip tightened. She rocked on him, back and forth, his cock solid and warm as it strained against his trousers. She untied the sash of her dressing gown and flung it behind her, warm with building desire and want.

She reached for the buttons of Draco's shirt, wanting them undone so she could trail her hands over his chest, but he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and stopped her hands. Shaking his head, he smiled at her. He didn't speak, but pulled her hands up and set them against the back of the sofa on either side of his head.

He ran his fingers up her thighs and beneath the hem of her nightdress. Hermione tried not to squirm, her cheeks heating as a blush started to form when Draco's hands wrapped around her hips and he lifted his brows. "No knickers, Professor Granger?"

"I was getting ready for bed," she muttered. "I, er. I never wear them to sleep."

Draco's eyes flashed and he tightened his grasp on her hips with a soft growl. "Interesting tidbit," he said, echoing her words from earlier. "I'll have to remember that." He stroked her skin, the fabric of her nightdress riding up his arms to crumple around her waist. Hermione gripped the back of the sofa tight and looked down to watch as Draco slid one hand over her thigh and cupped her mound in his palm.

His fingers were warm from the mulled wine he'd been holding, and Hermione struggled to hold back a moan as he pressed one into her. When he crooked his finger and probed gently, she shuddered. "Higher," she whispered. "Just a little higher."

Draco followed her direction and the tip of his finger brushed across her G-spot. Hermione trembled, her hands falling from the sofa to grip his shoulders. She clutched at his shirt and gave up on keeping quiet. She whimpered and grunted as Draco's fingers thrust inside her. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back. She pressed her hips forward, riding on his hand, imagining more than his fingers deep in her. "Draco," she pleaded as she met his eyes. "Bed. Take me to bed."

He went still, his eyes searching hers as if he needed to verify that she truly wanted that next step, his lower lip caught in his teeth. It gave him a soft, vulnerable look that she'd never have expected to see from him. Hermione released his shoulders and caught his cheeks, bending to kiss him. She traced the shape of his mouth, tasted the cinnamon and wine on his tongue. Draco shook under her and he wrapped both arms around her to haul her against him. "Bed," he muttered into the kiss. "Now."

Hermione scrambled off him and headed for her bedroom, looking back over her shoulder just once to see Draco following, his shirt already loose and unbuttoned. He dropped it just outside the door, kicked his shoes off just inside it, and left his belt somewhere in the middle of the room. Hermione knelt in the center of her bed and tugged her nightdress off, laughing as Draco danced from one foot to the other to get his socks off. "Sexy," she said with a grin.

"Keep that up and I'll go back out there," he said, jerking his head to the door. "The cat's already shown me plenty of affection. I think we might have something a little special."

Snickering, Hermione reached out and hooked her fingers in his waistband. She hauled him close to the bed and flattened her palm over his groin, molding the material around his cock. Draco groaned and canted his hips to press against his hand. Hermione hummed, pleased with his response, and scrabbled his trousers open. She leaned forward and sucked him in, just for a moment. Draco swore violently and pushed against her shoulder. Hermione scrambled back as he kicked free of his clothes. As soon as he was in the bed, Hermione pounced, rolling him to his back.

She clambered atop him, straddled his hips and ground down, felt his cock throbbing against her heated flesh. Draco looked up at her, his face open and questioning, and Hermione smiled. She leaned down to kiss him and reached between their bodies in the same moment, guiding his cock into her. She sat up, sat back, and groaned as he filled her. Draco made a strangled noise of satisfaction, his voice mingling with hers.

He reached up and ran his hand across her breasts, tweaking her nipples. Hermione yelped and laughed, then ground down on him as she returned the favor. Draco wriggled his shoulders against the bed. "Mine are harder to grab," he muttered.

"Yes," Hermione said with a soft hiss. She lifted up and slid down on him, smiling to herself as his eyelids fluttered. "Much harder."

Draco opened his mouth, but the only response he could manage was a long, drawn-out moan. Hermione purred and shifted her hips, squeezing around his cock to drag that sound from him again. He repeated it, his hands locked on her hips. Hermione's eyes flew open as Draco lifted her up and hauled her down, surprised at the strength in his grip, but she got the message. No more teasing. No more waiting.

She balanced her hands on his chest and rode him, taking him deep with every slide onto him. Draco bent his knees up and Hermione leaned back against his legs, one hand slipping down Draco's stomach to probe at the join of their bodies. She found her clit and rubbed it fast, suddenly frantic to come. Draco lifted his hips to thrust into her and Hermione shook her head, hair flying around her in a wild cloud. "No," she told him, her voice rough and hoarse. "Wait. Wait, please. You'll throw me off."

Draco stilled immediately, his body tense under hers, his face taut with the effort of stopping his unconscious, instinctive movements. His fingers gripped and pulled at her hips, her waist, her arse. Hermione watched him, memorizing the fall of his fringe and the planes of his face. Her fingers moved faster on her clit, circling and pressing, rubbing harder each time she ground down onto him. She felt her skin start to tingle and a shiver running down her spine, and she clawed at Draco's chest in warning.

He laid his hand over hers and met her eyes. "Come for me, Hermione," he whispered. She shuddered at the need in his voice. One more hard thrust down, one more fast circle around.

With a soft shriek, she flew apart.

Draco kept his eyes on her face as she bucked and writhed. Every muscle in her body felt as tight as a bowstring, as solid as the heavy length of Draco's cock deep inside her. She clutched at him, clung to him, and finally slumped over him, her trembling arms barely holding her up.

Draco drew her down and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling into her hair to kiss her ear and neck. "My turn," he murmured, and Hermione made a soft, helpless noise of agreement. Draco rolled them in the bed, knocking a pillow onto the floor, and balanced his weight on his forearms.

Hermione grunted with each long, deep thrust, then Draco picked up speed and her voice broke in a groan. He drove into her, his fringe dancing over the sweat-dappled bridge of his nose. She brushed his hair back and cupped his cheek. "Your turn," she mumbled, repeating his words. "Come for me, Draco."

His eyes snapped open and he looked at her with a fierce heat in his gaze. Hermione thought she might drown in the mercury of his eyes. Draco thrust hard, his steady rhythm faltering. He moaned, broken and stuttering, and stiffened as he came. Hermione watched him with sheer awe, her heart fluttering wild as she saw him open and unguarded in the moment of release.

Draco collapsed, his entire body going loose and relaxed, and he burrowed into the crook of her shoulder with a soft whimper. Hermione chuckled and stroked his hair. She traced her fingers down his spine and up to outline the sweep of his shoulder blades, caressing his heated skin as his cock softened and shrank inside her. When she wriggled her hips, he slipped out of her along with a wet flow of their combined fluids.

Hermione made a quiet noise and Draco grunted. "Sorry," he mumbled into her hair. "Would clean up but my wand's in my trousers." He gestured weakly off the side of the bed. "Over there."

With an exhausted sound, he pushed off her. Stretched out at her side, he draped his arm over her waist. Hermione tickled her fingers over the scar of his Mark and Draco shuddered. He opened one eye and peered at her. "Don't do that unless you want a second round. Sensitive, remember?"

Hermione turned on her side and curled into him, kissing the point of his chin. "I might. That was ... um."

"If you say 'nice', I'm walking out. Well, crawling. In a minute. Once I'm rested."

Hermione giggled and kissed the corner of his mouth. "No, you git. I was going to say 'wonderful', but then I thought I'd need a thesaurus to find better words for any later rounds. Then I wondered if there would _be_ any later rounds, and then I started to worry that maybe you'd think I was thinking--"

Draco cut her off with a deep kiss. "Babbler," he said with amusement in his voice. "Stop thinking. I'll tell you what's going to happen right now. We're going to rest a bit. We're going to go have some more of that rather delicious mulled wine. And then we're going to come back here and set ourselves to that second round." He lifted his head and smiled at her. "And if you're capable of thinking of _any_ words after that, I'll be very disappointed. Words and talking can happen in the morning. Over breakfast. Deal?"

Hermione looked at his darkened eyes and smiled. She ran her fingers up his arm and kissed him one more time before snuggling into the warmth of his embrace. "Deal. I like this plan."


End file.
